Grief gets an expiration date, just like us

I think we tend to react to being told there’s a diagnosis name for the thing we’re currently doing, but there are situations in which it is both absolutely normal, understandable, and expected that we behave in a way with the hallmarks of a particular pathology and also we are still behaving in that way and could probably use some support.

(On a more bureaucratic note, the other reason to have an actual DSM-recognized diagnosis is because the ghouls running insurance companies won’t cover counseling without it. Giving your therapist a DSM approved name to apply to your deep, life-impacting, and completely understandable grief means they have a better shot at convincing the claims department you actually do need help right now.)

The author is extremely talented at isolating certain feelings and making you feel them with her. I wouldn't use this article as a diagnosis of anything but her writing talent.

Again, my point is that that statement is absolutely true and also does not preclude the notion that additional professional help may be warranted.

I went on Prozac earlier this year after a conversation with my doctor that went, roughly: “I think you’ve got anxiety” “well yeah, look at the fucking world!” “…right.” Just because there’s a good reason for what you’re going through doesn’t mean you’re not going through it.

Put another way, if the author had been shot a year ago and was saying things like “most days I’m fine, but some days I literally cannot walk or feel my left arm,” the notion that they should be talking to professionals would not be controversial, even though their symptoms are absolutely utterly explicable given what they’ve been through.

If your partner died and the very next day a doctor said, "Here's a pill that will make you forget you were ever together and erase 100% of the pain. You'll feel amazing." Would you take it?